Free Mummy Dearest by Joan Hess

within a short distance. I’m not sure what I expected, but this appeared to be little more than a good-sized hole, maybe ten feet across, situated between the road and a steep incline. People milled about the rim, talking and gesturing. A tarp had been rigged on poles to provide a small patch of shade. The only activity seemed to come from the native workmen, who were goingin and out of the hole with baskets made of what looked like sections of old tires.
    Dr. King was the first to notice us. She pulled off her cloth hat and fluffed her blond hair with her fingertips. Tucking her sunglasses in her shirt pocket, she chirped, “Alexander, what a lovely surprise. I was hoping your father might come out today, but perhaps I can catch him later. All of you are welcome to duck under the rope and join us. Can we offer you some tea? Nabil, Hasham, get chairs out of the truck.”
    “Don’t let us disrupt the work,” Alexander murmured.
    “No, it’s no bother. We’re always pleased to see you.” She stared at Inez but, like the rest of us, could think of nothing to say. Her attention shifted to Peter. “We didn’t have the opportunity to be introduced last evening, Mr. Rosen. I do hope we’ll have a chance to get to know each other better. In a sense, we’re both detectives, although my clues are found in antiquity. I’d love to hear about your more spectacular cases, perhaps over drinks in the hotel bar some evening?”
    Although I did my best not to bristle, Peter sensed my displeasure. “I believe you met my wife, Claire Malloy. This is her daughter, Caron, and Inez Thornton.”
    “Yes, the fabled Mrs. Malloy,” Shannon murmured, appraising me as if I were an unsuitable candidate for her program. “You look as though you’re about to collapse from the heat and exertion. Please, do sit down in the shade. We have some water, although I’m afraid it’s tepid.”
    “I’m fine, but thank you for your solicitude,” I said. “Is this all there is to the excavation? I anticipated something more dramatic.”
    “Most people do. There’s a great deal more complexity to archeology than what one picks up watching simple-minded cable shows. A doctoral degree requires a vigorous regimen of academic studies, as well as field experience. My parents swear I could read hieroglyphs before I learned the alphabet.” She rested her hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “I’m sure you could, too, since you grew up surrounded byyour father’s marvelous collection. Isn’t it quaint how so many Americans think the word ‘dynasty’ refers to a TV soap opera?”
    It was obvious that Dr. Shannon King and I were not destined to become close friends. I didn’t know if her arrogance came from her advanced degree, academic status, or blond hair, but I was less than impressed. Before I could voice any of this, Peter once again came to my rescue.
    “I understand the excavator is a German woman?”
    Shannon was so engrossed in sending provocative glances at Alexander that she was startled. “Why, yes. Let me introduce you to Magritta and her staff.” She beckoned to a young man standing over two workmen who were sieving rubble on a wide frame. “This is Jess Delmont, one of my grad students. He’s spending the semester here.”
    Jess Delmont lacked the panache of Howard Carter, or even Inez. He was short and dumpy, with frizzy brown hair in a ponytail and a sour expression. He managed a shrug. “Hey, yeah, pleased to meet you.”
    “Our department requires a semester of fieldwork,” Shannon continued. “Jess was hoping for an assignment in Mesopotamia, but with the political situation, it just wasn’t feasible. Such a shame.”
    “Such a shame,” he said, mocking her sugary tone. He returned to his previous spot and looked down at the workmen, his arms crossed.
    “Well, yes,” Shannon said, disconcerted. “Let me fetch Magritta.”
    Caron and Inez sat down on the chairs under the tarp, neither of them acknowledging the